Luck of The Irish

Luck of the Irish-

In the calendar section of an in-flight magazine I found a highlighted feature for the Fringe Festival in Adelaide which was starting the same day I was scheduled to leave. After doing a bit of research I was convinced to extend my stay an extra day to check it out. Unlike most festivals that are officially curated, the month long Fringe is open to any performer, musician, artist, contortionist, sideshow circus freak, (whatever) that wants to submit an entry. There was a parade in the heart of the city signifying the commencement of the festival. The 45 minute quick up and down was probably the worst parade I’ve ever seen (though I haven’t really seen many I guess)… In contrast though, the atmosphere and energy all throughout the streets following the parade was amazing and it felt like the Vegas strip on NYE. The roadways were shut down to make room for the street performers and party people. An occasional ambulance made its way through the crowd and a few arrests were made, but it’s not a real party without either of those.

In spite of the festive atmosphere, or maybe even because of it, I wasn’t feeling it that night. I wasn’t about to partner up with any of my geriatric backpacker roommates, nor did I met anybody else to hang with leading up to that. My 2 previous days were spent bike riding and wine tasting, which although a great time, didn’t allow for me to make any allies. There was a pair of Canadian sisters on the wine tour that I hung out with, but they had taken off that morning… Regardless at the festival I was on my own. It’s kind of an isolated and lonely feeling being around so much revelry and excitement to not have anyone to share it with. I couldn’t motivate myself enough to get into the spirit and by about 10pm was on the way back to the hostel when the Irishman rang.

Sean is the childhood friend of my friend Steo who I ended my Byron trip with. I met Sean in Vegas a few years back with Steo and we hung out again in Sydney. He was determined to get me out for a drink in spite of how I resisted and made excuses… “Come on man just 1 shot, I can’t let you leave without having a shot with you” Na brother I can’t, been up since 6am and need to get some sleep… “Bullshit, I had shots with you in Vegas AND Sydney, I’m not letting you leave my city without one” seriously I’m cool, I went hard last few nights and am a little partied out… “I just had a baby 2 weeks ago and I could only justify going out to my girl because you were in town”… Shit man I’m so sorry and thanks anyway, but I’m already back at my hotel… “Where are you staying I’ll come drink with you there!”… Ok ok ok! I’m in, where are you at? I’ll come back and meet you for “1” drink… It ended up becoming the 2nd consecutive city that I ended my trip by drinking with a crazy Irishman.

Sean brought along and introduced me to Christina who had moved to Adelaide from Dublin only 2 weeks ago. We hung out at the Stag Hotel on Rundle Street which was the epicentre for the festival events and across the road from fairgrounds The Garden of Unearthly Delights. 1 drink predictably turned into 10 and the night carried on to a private after party in the suburban outskirts of Adelaide. At about 7:30am I finally made my way back to the hostel, glassy blood shot eyed and grinning. I was grateful to have had Sean there to twist my arm (liver). With his, and the lovely Christina’s help, I had a memorable ending to my visit to South Australia and was glad to have extended my stay for that final night of debauchery.

Bob